The Rise & Fall of Harry Potter
by Lucullus
Summary: Evil is not inherent, but inculcated. The most innocent of souls can give rise to the greatest evil. Welcome to the life story of Harry James Potter, a man who could not see past the darkness in his mind. AU fic. Full Summ. inside. Eventual Dark!Harry
1. Default Chapter

The Rise & Fall of Harry Potter

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This will be my first novel length piece of fiction after my previous One-Shot, "Flight of Death".

**Complete Summary**: No man is born evil. Evil is not inherent, but inculcated. The greatest evil can emerge from the most innocent and purest of soul. Welcome to the life story of a man who failed to quell the growing darkness in himself; the life story of Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the defeater of Lord Voldemort, and… the greatest Dark Wizard ever since the era of Salazar Slytherin. AU fic.

This fic will be Dark!Harry, as you will probably see. It will of course feature a Powerful!Harry, which I will try not to overpower though. The fic will also _probably_ be a gen-fic, as in No-Romance. In the event that I place Harry with a girl, rest assured, Romance Haters, that she _will _die before Harry's rise to power.

Harry's character will be modeled after Anakin Skywalker of George Lucas' Star Wars series. He will _not _exactly be the same. Harry will be a young man twisted by a childhood of suffering, and corrupted by the lure of power.

Lastly, this first chapter (prologue) is written in First-Person perspective, but worry not, the others will be in Third-Person. The prologue will seem confusing at first, but kindly bear till the next chapter.

**Disclaimer**: The Harry Potter universe and all of its characters solely belong to JK Rowling. I myself own nothing, except anything that you do not recognize.

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**Prologue**

The light drizzle was slowly turning into a heavy downpour. I got out of the Taxer. No, was it Taxi? Whatever. Who cares what those filthy Muggles call it. Hastily stuffing a few crisp pound notes into the side pockets of my silver windbreaker, I strolled down the side lanes of Acacia Street as swiftly as I could, trying to ignore the ever-growing, steady fall of raindrops, prickling me like ice-cold needles, and the hustle and bustle on the roads of which we call 'Every Day London'.

Ah yes! There it is- _The Leaky Cauldron_. On the surface, it looked like a tiny, dark and smoky pub, with only a weird looking wooden signboard of a leaking cauldron topped by its name, to attract customers. I scoff at it. Even if Muggles could actually _see_ the entrance, they would probably not go near the dingy place with a ten-foot pole. But _I _knew better. Then again, so do a hundred thousand other people living in Great Britain. I quickly rushed into the warm embrace of my destination, or rather, the pathway to my destination.

Looking from the outside, Muggles would be shocked out of their wits if they could see how clean and spacious the bar was. But what can I say? The keyword was '_Muggles_'. The atmosphere inside was of a generally dark one. The amount of sunlight that could permeate the darkly-tinted front window panes was so miserable that the entire establishment had to be lighted up with candles on every single table. Not that I am complaining. A bar would just not be a bar if it was brightly lit and had a cheery atmosphere. I almost had to gag at the thought. The design of the Leaky Cauldron was a bore though. Wooden tables, wooden seats, wooden ceiling beams and even a wooden bar counter itself! A simple _Incendio_, and this place would go up in a bonfire. My wand hand is starting to itch… If not for the owner, I might have satisfied this 'itch'.

There was only a few occupants sitting around, speaking in hush voices in the otherwise empty place.

"Mr Clairborne, here to get your school supplies?"

I would recognize the distinct calm but soothing voice from a mile.

"Not really, my dear Hendrik. I'm here to get some resources for a holiday project", I responded, turning around to face him.

Hendrik Langer was a tall, sturdy and stony looking man. He had neatly trimmed, combed blond hair and piercing brown eyes that only served to make him look sterner than he really was. The fact that he only smiled with his eyes and never with his mouth did not help his social life much, which was a pity. He had the kindest heart in anyone I had met, and if you knew him well, was the most helpful and friendly person. Hendrik retained the same warm character from his father, Tom, though he thankfully did not inherit his sire's physical attributes.

"Leaving all your assignments till the last minute again. Will you ever learn? Wait, if you did you would not be a boy. The day I hear the name 'Clairborne' associated with hard work would be the same day Hogwarts wins the 'Best Name for a Magical School' prize."

I let out a soft chuckle. Hendrik never fails to raise my spirits, no matter how downtrodden it was.

"Well then, you better be on your way. _Flourish & Blotts_ closes early these days. Rainy season, you know?"

"I guess its farewell for now. I might stop by for a drink afterwards". I deftly strode to the backdoor and pulled it open.

Cursing the rain, I stepped up to the brick wall which formed a dead-end and tapped my wand selectively on a few bricks.

Said brick wall split in the middle to admit me into a totally different world. A world where flying broomsticks, preserved brains, moving photographs and Lemon Drops is nothing out of the ordinary.

I wasted no time in walking towards the bookshop, ignoring the shouts of some over-enthusiastic salesmen trying to relieve idiotic wizards of their gold. _Flourish & Blotts_ now stands proudly before me. The window case displayed new editions of 'Quidditch Weekly', 'Potions Weekly' and whatever other Weekly-s. But I knew what I needed to find, and pushed open the glass doors.

More than one hour later in the musty smelling bookshop and I still could not find what I desired. Perhaps I could only blame myself. Why on earth I chose to do a History of Magic project on _Him_, I will never know. I must have been mental.

Tossing aside copies of 'Voldemort: Rise and Fall' and 'The Reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', I moved on towards a dusty shelf.

If you think people's fear of Voldemort was too extreme, their fear of _Him_ was even worse. The mere mention of "_Him_" would be enough to send most wizards into an apoplectic shock. Few dared to write books on him or his reign, thus explaining my crisis now.

I was about to leave when a thick black, dirty looking leather-bound book caught my eye. Is it possible? Wait a minute. Bingo! It really is it.

I carefully took down the book. Staring at me in gold letters was the title: _The Rise & Fall of Harry Potter- Life Story and Reign of Persecutus._

I gingerly opened the book and started to read…

* * *

Do not be put off by this chapter. Its just the prologue. The rest of the fic will be Harry-centric and mainly in Harry's POV. We will probably not hear about the narrator or Hendrik Langer again, though the Clairborne family might make a minor appearance.

The next chapter should come in a few days time. As a challenge for myself, I shall use suitable and appropriate titles of other Harry Potter fanfiction as my chapter titles :D

Review please, and tell me how you find the start of this fic. I unashamedly admit my love for reviews, so please tell me what you think.

In the next chapter, we will explore the suffering that young Harry has been subjected to, and how he was pushed to escaping. We will also see him being taken in by a Dark family. A cookie for whoever manages to guess which family it will be. All I will say is a canon character is from said family. And no, it isn't one of those major ones in the canon.

Lucullus


	2. Forlorn Hope

_The Rise & Fall of Harry Potter_

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The story really begins here, where we go into Harry's life under abusive relatives. For those haters of Abused-Harry, you need not worry. Harry will no longer have to suffer the presence of those half-swines after this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **The Harry Potter universe and all its characters belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing, except for anything which you do not recognize.

**A/N**: Firstly, a big 'Thank You' to all who have reviewed. You made my day :) Next, the family Harry is to be placed with is not the Malfoys, nor going to be the Zabinis. I want a canon family that looks Dark, yet one which we know very, _very_ little off. Besides, I have plans for the Zabinis to be a Light family. Not all Slytherin families are dark, you know? But this one is different. While they won't be supporters of Voldemort (Neutral in the war they are), they are no less evil than the likes of Black, Lestrange and Malfoy. (You get the drift?).

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**Chapter 1: Forlorn Hope**

The home is supposed to be a shelter for all things negative to its occupants. It is supposed to be a place where comfort and safety is guaranteed; the last place where one would come to harm. No matter what the rest of the world thought of a person, the home would always remain loyal, silently standing over him, sheltering him from the elements, external influences and opinions.

Number 4 Privet Drive would look like a perfect example of this. Just by looking in from the outside, the place seems to be a source for a semblance of comfort with its lush, green immaculate lawns, stately Victorian-style carved wooden door, large and posh looking interior.

However, that is not the case for one of its occupants, for a house can offer no protection against danger from _within_.

An eight-year old bespectacled boy lay on his bed shivering. He was severely malnourished, looking almost like a bag of bones. The word 'skinny' cannot even be used to describe his frame. Numerous cuts and welts could be seen on his stick-thin arms. His otherwise handsome looking face was marred by bruises on the cheeks and forehead. His 'room' was nothing more than a cramped, dusty and overstuffed cupboard that lay under the stairs of Number 4 Privet Drive. He lay in the darkness, waiting for the inevitable to occur. Darkness because the sole hanging lamp in the cupboard had fused 2 years ago, and his Uncle Vernon would no sooner replace it than build a shrine to worship the boy.

He was seriously starting to develop a chill now. The trembling and shivering of his body had, far from subsided, became worse. Aunt Petunia had forced him to weed the garden an hour ago despite the heavy downpour. The cold wind practically bit into him like ravenous fangs of ice, the reason for his predicament now. Or rather, one of the reasons.

In this world, he was nothing more than a useless, disgusting freak. That's what had been drilled into his head since he was born. He was merely a slave, a tool for his relatives to vent their anger on, a waste of valuable resources, a being unworthy of life…

The ironic thing was, in another world, he was a hero, a boy who practically everyone revered and worshipped; a boy whom families would kill to adopt, a boy whom girls young and old alike see as an idol. For he was Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived and the vanquisher of one of the greatest Dark Wizards magical Britain had ever seen.

However, his relatives who were Muggles, Non-Magical folk, treat the magical world with outmost contempt. To them, Magic was an abomination, unclean and dangerous. Anyone born with it should be shunned, or better yet, purged and culled. When an infant Harry was left on their doorsteps, Vernon Dursley had half a mind to drown the baby into a nearby lake, but was reluctantly stopped only by his wife.

From the day Harry could walk, he was made to serve. Cooking, sweeping, cleaning, and washing, you name it, he had to do it. Meals were nothing more than a thin, stale slice of bread and a small glass of water. But the duo and their overgrown son more or less left him alone, apart from the usual curses and swearing. That was the _better _half of his young life.

Matters soon started for the worse, with Harry's life going down a downward spiral.

3 years ago, Uncle Vernon was fired by Grunnings, the drill company which he worked for, for misappropriation of company funds; a deed he had the guts to carry out but not admit, shamelessly proclaiming his innocence till the point he had to be forcibly dragged out of the workplace. No sooner after that, Dudley Dursley was expelled from Stanton Junior School for brutally beating up a younger kid, which may I add, being short and thin, coupled with having to battle with quite a number of debilitating inherited diseases, was completely unable to defend himself. The school officials were horrified by the incident and declared that "No foul, inhuman creature like you will ever taint the grounds of Stanton Junior again". Petunia Dursley firmly believed her beloved 'Dudders' would never carry out such a vile act, and had raged with the officials for hours before the police constables were forced to step in.

The family wondered what could be the source of their string of bad luck, never ever thinking for once that it could originate from themselves. Their search narrowed down to one boy: Harry Potter. Only the ungrateful, filthy miscreant could have stooped so low to curse them, jinx them, trying to plunge their 'normal', hardworking family into crisis. And he should be punished for daring to perform such evil, malicious sins…

Ever since then, Harry's popularity in the family rose. Not in the positive way. For starters, his already significant workload had increased almost exponentially. Since he was a freak and thus not human, he should not be bothered by mere elements. Harry had to do his chores, which now included outdoor ones even in extreme weather, be it sweltering heat, frostbiting cold, or a severe thunderstorm, like the one in full action now. If he was deemed not to be 'up to task', Harry would graciously be rewarded by a solid 'Thwack!' on the forehead by his Aunt's frying pan. But it was his Uncle Vernon who truly filled his heart with undiluted fear and terror.

Harry shuddered at the thought. This was something far worse than a cold or a whack from a pan. His Uncle Vernon liked to spend what he called, 'quality time' with him. Quality time involved a meaty fist, a leg the size of a tree trunk, and Harry, of course. On certain days when his Uncle was feeling cheerful and upbeat, another factor was added into the simple mathematical equation: A 4-foot long whip made of thick, tough rhinoceros hide called a _sjambok_ and affectionately named 'Whippy' by his uncle. The thought of it brought back painful memories.

"_Boy! Aren't you lucky today? Whippy is paying you a visit." CRACK!_

"_You should be thankful that Whippy here does not mind your freakishness!" CRACK! CRACK!_

"_Uncle Vernon! Please stop it! Plea…" CRACK! His uncle had demonic look of glee in his face as he swung the whip at his thigh again._

Harry tried to banish the thought, though had little success. Even in his sleep, he was not let off. Nightmares of various beatings had constantly plagued his dreams.

His eyes turned onto the flaphole by instinct. As he was a worthless freak, food should not be wasted on him. A slice of bread was thrown through the flaphole only when his relatives feel generous- which was very, very rarely. Only enough to keep him alive, or the family would lose their precious servant. The flaphole had not seen a crumb pass through it for at least 10 days now.

SLAM! The sound of the main doors being crashed open reverberated through the house, causing a good amount of sand, dirt and cracked plaster to fall from the ceiling of Harry's cupboard. But he was too distracted to worry about a minor thing like that.

_No! Please. Not him! Please let it not be him!_

CREAK. CREAK. CREAK. CREAK.

The sound of heavy, unmistakable footsteps could slowly be heard nearing his 'room'. Harry rolled himself into a ball, clutching his legs tightly, as though trying to squeeze himself out of existence, trying to avoid the inevitable.

_Why? Why do I have to suffer such a life? What had I done to deserve this?_

A loud cackle could be heard now. "Freak, freak, freak, have you been missing your dear uncle? I should think so, because I certainly missed YOU!" His uncle's voice was low and slurred, perhaps due to the having returned home from another drinking spree. Harry also never failed to notice the underlying cruelty laced in his voice.

The door was roughly pulled open, nearly ripped from its hinges. Uncle Vernon stood by the entrance, his whale-like frame almost entirely blocking it. Basked by the warm, yellow lights, a cruel, inhuman expression could be seen on his face, which slowly contorted into a sick saccharine smile.

"Your Aunt Petunia told me that you have been tardy in your chores. As idiotic as you freaks naturally are, I nevertheless expected you to know that laziness is not accepted in this house. I must admit that I am disappointed with you…", he said in a mock sad voice, shaking his head emphatically.

He strode towards Harry, grabbed him roughly by his loose and ragged shirt's cuff and delivered a solid punch to his face. Harry fell back against the bed, hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness. His lip had split open, and he could vaguely taste the coppery smell of his blood flowing freely from the wound. Harry slowly stood up, trying to orientate himself, when a heavy boot smashed into his already weak gut, causing him to double over in pain, falling to the floor.

"Stop it. Please, Uncle Vernon. Please..." His voice was faint and could hardly be discerned.

Harry then noticed that murderous, slightly insane glint in his uncle's eyes as he raised the boot high over his head. It was then that Harry made a decision that was long due. Rolling to the side to avoid the large 'STOMP!' of his uncle's boot, he sprang up past the swine, turning towards the doorway.

"You miserable creep! I'll skin you alive!"

His uncle turned around and tried to land a forceful backhand on him but missed. Mustering up whatever courage and energy his frail body still possessed, Harry spun out of the open doorway, past the carefully cleaned and maintained dining area and barreled left towards the main doors.

"HOW DARE YOU! GET BACK HERE, FREAK! I WILL BREAK EVERY SINGLE BONE IN YOUR BODY WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU FILTHY MUTT", Vernon bellowed, a purple look of outmost rage on his face as he tried to catch up with the boy in vain.

Harry winced as a glass plate shattered on the floor just inches from him, the sharp fragments grazing his leg. BANG! Harry was thankful that his momentum kept him going or he would have frozen with shock as he watched a bullet lodge itself into one of the partition walls.

_Uncle Vernon tried to shoot me._

His mind was still trying to comprehend that fact. Pushing with all his might against the heavy wooden doors, he ran out back into the thunderous downpour, without giving Number 4 Privet Drive a last glance.

Harry ran like the wind, ignoring the relentless fall of rain pounding against his body, and the chilly winds enveloping him. Running on and on, without a care for directions, never stopping or faltering.

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_How long have I been here? 3 days? Have I really lost track of time that fast?_

Harry knew neither his location, nor how far he had walked. He had crossed numerous rivers, cut through his fair share of forest, treaded along vast, seemingly never-ending highways, watching as cars after cars sped past him, without any care for the now homeless and sick-looking child.

He had eventually come to a large city, with huge, ancient-looking historic buildings and towering skyscrapers. Street after street he passed, until he felt like he could move no more, and settled down by a wall in a deserted back-alley, his current position now.

He had not had a scrap to eat for nearly a fortnight now. Every single person that he passed went by without sparing him a second glance, much less help him. Probably due to him looking for all he was worth like a runaway vagabond. But now Harry was hoping against hope that it would not rain. He could see stormy, gray thunderclouds forming in the sky above, and seriously doubt his body could withstand another drenching, as he had nowhere to seek shelter from.

While a home maybe a haven of comfort and safety, the outside world is a totally different case altogether. The world had teeth and it could bite you with them whenever it wanted to. This, Harry had discovered the hard way.

But going back to Privet Drive was out of the question even for a complete fool. He would be dead before the end of an hour. The only choice was to pit himself against the test of time, hunger and sickness…

_Snap yourself out of this depression, Harry. What will you do now and in future, if you even have one_, he mentally chided himself.

He was rudely interrupted in his train of thought by a loud, whip-like CRACK! Harry flinched, memories of a horrendous whip filling his mind once again. Looking up, he saw a man, who had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

_My body condition was worse than I thought. I must be seeing things. How could a man appear out of nowhere? Wake up, Harry. Or is this what people call hallucinations?_

The man was tall, dressed impeccably in a crisp, brown business suit. He had a lean physique, jet black hair tied back in a short, elegant ponytail. His face was the most striking thing though, well-chiseled features, a short nose and hard blue eyes that flashed with an innate cunningness. Pursed thin lips and a dark expression completed the impression that this was not somebody to be trifled with. Also, the very way the man carried himself- the self-confidence and dignity he exuded gave Harry a feeling that this was probably some rich and powerful aristocrat.

"Bloody Muggles. I should never have agreed to venture out into this land of filth", the man muttered angrily to himself, before looking up and noticing Harry for the first time.

The man looked up to see a small, frail and sickly bespectacled boy lying by a desecrated wall, staring back at him with a startled look and a queasy expression on his face.

He inwardly cursed. _Being spotted Apparating by a child of Muggle scum; can today get any worse?_

The boy slowly got up, and began to edge away from him nervously. Deftly drawing out his wand, he pointed it at the boy, who was about to turn and start running.

"_Petrificus Totalus"_

Harry saw the man remove a thin black wooden stick from his inner pockets. He could not for the life of him, understand what said man would do with the puny looking wooden rod. But whatever it is, Harry did not like it one bit.

Prevention was better than cure, in any case. Harry decided that the best course of action would be to flee. His mind, having gone through years of abuse and sully was screaming out to him: _RUN!_ No sooner had he turned around when he heard something indiscernible being muttered. A split second later, he felt his arms and legs snapping together, causing him to keel over, stiff as a board and completely unable to move. Harry tried to struggle and break whatever invisible bonds that have ensnared him, but found that he could not even move a finger.

_What the hell? How on earth did he bind me?_

The man walked over to Harry. He could see the fear and apprehension reflected from the boy's brilliant emerald green orbs. However, along with the fear, he also noticed curiosity and a slight awe in the boy's eyes.

He walked over to the fallen, immobile child and raised his wand once again, this time aiming for the head.

A slight gust of wind blew past them, whipping Harry's fringe to the side, enough to expose the thin lightning-bolt shaped scar which stood out on his otherwise porcelain forehead like a sore thumb.

"_Obliv-"_

_It can't be! Or can it? Praise Salazar, it is Harry Potter! But what on earth could THE Harry Potter be doing looking like a young vagrant in Muggle London? _

_But the boy could be useful to us, could he not? Indeed…_

A cold, calculative look suddenly spread across his features as a thought sparked in his brain in a flash of neurons. His family was one of the few ancient pureblood lines, with history dating back to almost the Middle Ages, but never treated with the respect or commanding influence a certain others enjoyed, namely the Malfoys and the Blacks. But with _Harry Potter_ on their family, the balance of power could be thrown wide open, wider than possible imagination, and in ways more than one.

_And who knows what other options the boy could open to our line. But with him we will definitely scale to greater heights. I will make sure of that._

"Listen carefully, boy, for I will not repeat this a second time. I will release the spell and return to you your mobility. I warn you to stay where you are. Any attempts to run and you will regret it."

"_Finite Incantatem_"

The man watched as Harry began to wriggle his hands and feet, the ability to move returning back to him. His eyes were full of mistrust and wariness, yet at the same time, a large awe.

"How did you-"

"Tell me what you know about magic", he responded coolly and smoothly, cutting the boy off.

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The man observed the boy carefully, as he explained the magical world and the young child's true status.

"So you are saying that I am a wizard too?", he asked, voice betraying his confusion.

"Yes. I certainly did say that, or are you deaf?"

Looking at the boy's physical state and attire, it pointed to only one thing: Abuse. More likely than not at the hands of some disgusting Muggle relatives the meddling old fool Albus Dumbledore had placed him with.

Also, judging from the gleam in the boy's eyes, there was no mistaking how impressed he was at the power a single wand could channel and wield. And he was curious for more. Harry Potter had just experienced how a single spell can cause a man, no matter how big and strong, to be rendered immobile, and would no doubt desire to learn and utilize this power himself.

He was more than ready to exploit the boy's sense of misery, innate yearning and curiosity towards magic, the security and power it could guarantee. He carefully phrased his offer.

"It is obvious that your guardians have not treated you too kindly", he began, watching as Harry Potter hung his head down in shame and embarrassment, staring at his feet.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. You are just a young boy, completely defenseless against such uncivilized, barbaric Muggles. Only they can find it within themselves to cruelly abuse and beat you up. We wizards should never have tolerated them. And others wondered why we purebloods hate the Muggles so much.

I however, am willing to take you in. Our family could use another son. I will offer you a home where you can find shelter, lodgings, food, protection and comfort. I will train you in magic if you would like, so that no Muggle can ever hope to lay a hand on you again. I can teach you how to transfigure your relatives into pigs. I can teach you how to make horrible boils and pustules erupt on their faces. I can teach you how to bind them, or freeze them in their tracks. In future, I can even help you master spells that can maim or permanently blind, rendering any Muggle with negative intentions from getting within a foot of you. I can do all this and more, if only you are willing."

Harry felt as though his mind was being torn in two. On one hand, he felt that he could not trust this man. In actual fact, Harry seriously doubted if he could ever fully trust _anyone_ again. Furthermore, this man was a virtual stranger, and Harry found it hard to tell his true feelings from the man's emotionless mask. This was not about spending a day or two with the mysterious man and his family, it was a _lifetime_. There is always a possibility that the man and his family might be out to do him harm, just like the Dursleys.

_Don't go into there. Enough about them._

On the other hand, Harry seriously did not know what his future would hold in this decrepit alley. Would he even survive to have a future? The man here told him that he truly belonged in a different world, and had no reason to lie about that. He was offering to Harry a real home and a place in his family. Something that Harry had never experienced before. The stranger was also willing to teach him magic. That strongly appealed to Harry. With magic, he would never again be bullied. With magic, he can be _strong_. With magic, he could gain _power_. Power to protect and defend himself, power to turn the tables against those that have ill-treated him, power to rewrite his forlorn destiny and power to carve a name for himself in the annals of history…

"I guess you are not interested in my offer. I will take my leave now", the man said, beginning to exit the alley.

"Wait! Will you really-"

"Yes I will", the stranger said firmly without turning around.

Harry knew he could not resist such an offer. "I will come with you."

The man turned to face him once again, a small smile on his lips.

"You have made the right decision.

My name is Alpheus", the man said, extending a hand.

"Alpheus Greengrass"

* * *

There! I present to you the noble line of Greengrass. Harry's attraction to the lure of power is also starting to show itself. Something that Alpheus is planning to make use of, along with his fear and terror towards his Muggle relatives, to instill and fan the flames of hatred towards Muggles in Harry. As Yoda says: Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hatred, hatred leads to suffering. And suffering- it is the path to the Dark side.

I must first warn readers that this fic will not feature a badass, rebellious, Dumbledore-hating Harry, who is generally still good at heart. This Harry will grow up to be insidious, ruthless and evil (Though he won't totally sink into the Darkness until after 7th year and Voldemort's death). I will try to make it as realistic as possible though.

The quote "The world has teeth and it could bite you with them whenever it wanted to." comes from Stephen King's novel 'The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon'. I highly recommend it. While it isn't really of the horror genre, its level of description is so great, it would kick my socks from here to the edge of the universe and back again :P

The title for this chapter is inspired by Elssha's excellent fic, 'Forlorn Hope'. It is one of the few Severitus fic that I would actually read. (The others are Prometheus Bound and Not Myself.)

I once again thank all my reviewers. Thanks for giving me your opinion on this fic. To the rest of the readers, please review and tell me what you think of this fic. Suggestions are _always_ welcome.

To express my gratitude, I shall reveal some of my intentions for another major character- Sirius Black. This fic, apart from being Dark-Harry, will be Dark-Sirius as well. After escaping from Azkaban in Harry's third year, Sirius Black is not a happy man. He has been totally and utterly betrayed by almost everybody he knows. Firstly, Wormtail who turned traitor to Voldemort. Then Remus, Dumbledore and the rest of his friends and Order members who condemned him and did not aid him in demanding for a trial. Sirius will be very OOC, only similarity he has with the canon version being his love for Harry as his godson, whom he will look up when he has escaped. Both will share similar aims which will be mentioned in due time. Sirius will be one of the catalysts to Harry's complete descension into the Darkness. The world had better beware, for the dark and evil side that every Black possesses is about to rear its ugly head in Sirius Black…

Next chapter we will see Alpheus trying to gain custody of Harry, having a run-in with Dumbledore in the process. Also, we will see Harry entering the Greengrass' ancestral home, and facing their formidable family.

Lucullus


	3. A Dark Future Looms

The Rise & Fall of Harry Potter

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**Disclaimer**: The Harry Potter universe and all of its characters solely belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing except for anything which you do not recognize. No profit is being made from writing this piece of fiction either.

**A/N**: Firstly, a big 'Thanks!' to all my reviewers. I really appreciated your feedback. To answer Baranwyn's question, the character 'Daphne Greengrass' appeared in page 628 of OOTP when she left to take her OWLS at the same time as Hermione. We later find out from the interview, "Harry Potter and Me" that she is a member of Slytherin house, along with Tracey Davis (Both of which will appear in this fic).

Lastly, I know I said that I will try to incorporate the gaining of Harry's custody by Alpheus and Harry's meeting the rest of the Greengrass family in this chapter, but I think I will separate both events. Combining both will make this chapter too long and takes a longer time to complete.

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**Chapter 2: A Dark Future Looms**

"_My name is Alpheus", the man said, extending a hand._

"_Alpheus Greengrass"_

Alpheus watched as Harry extended a thin, bony hand to shake his. For such a frail, delicate-looking boy, Harry had a surprisingly firm grip. He approved; a firm and solid handshake is a sign of confidence, represented decisiveness, without hesitation.

His eyes critically scanned over the boy's frame. As far as he could tell, the boy was all but mottled with large purple and black bruises throughout his body. Also visible are long dark scars and slashes, most of which had scabbed over and started to heal. Numerous faint lines on his thighs indicated that the abuse had probably started years ago. Harry's malnourished appearance, dirty and thick rounded glasses all the more added to his looking like a starving street waif.

Alpheus felt his disgust and contempt of Muggles increase nearly ten-fold after seeing the boy.

_Hah! What will Dumbledore, champion of the Mudbloods and Muggles, along with the rest of his Muggle-loving companions say when they see this?_

Why should wizards have to hide their world like cowards from the Muggles? Having to keep their existence a secret; having to place complex charms just to hide their places of residence; having to hire large squads of Obliviators just to ensure no Muggle would have any memory of seeing them.

_We wizards are superior to those filthy low-lives. If anything, the Muggles are the ones who should have to hide their existence, if they are even worthy of it._

But Alpheus will be tolerant. For now… Everything will fall according to plan, which had been slowly but surely forming in his head the moment he identified Harry Potter. The time will soon come when the wizards will overthrow those arrogant twits from their unjustly position in the world. The line of Greengrass will also be hailed as heroes to the Magical world; will then gain their rightful place as the noble leaders of the purebloods. And Harry Potter will be one of his key pawns and figures to bring motion to this plan. All he needed to do was to train and sculpt Harry into his ideal apprentice and son, then patiently wait to reap the fruits of his effort.

_Yes…_

But he recognized that much work had to be put in just to restore the boy into a healthy frame and poise. An unhealthy, frail and weak Harry would not be able to do much for him. Now however, Alpheus had more important matters to settle.

Plastering a kindly smile on his face, he turned to Harry.

"Come on, Harry. We have much to accomplish today", he said in a calm and soothing tone without seeming forced. Yes. A master schemer and manipulator he was.

Alpheus had sworn to take the family to greater heights, and would not stop at nothing to accomplish this. He had always prided himself on being a quiet thinker, always silently observing and planning. Alpheus was never one to act rashly; every single move and decision of his was ruthlessly and coldly calculated. His father, Hephaestus was no fool, and had noticed that he was going to be the cream of the crop out of the three sons. Father had gone out of his way to groom his second-eldest, doting on him more than even his own wife, and had unsurprisingly named him heir to the Greengrass line in his will before he died, much to the extreme displeasure of Sejanus and Demetrius, the other two sons.

"Where are we going", Harry asked, his voice guarded and cautious.

Harry observed Mr. Greengrass carefully, awaiting his reply. One could tell a lot from a man's face. That was something he had learnt while under the Dursleys. While Harry trusted his instincts and decision, he was still a little unsettled at leaving for a strange and unknown location.

"The Ministry of Magic. I have to first gain custody of you", Mr. Greengrass said, his reply swift and to the point. His face did not reveal anything but a slight smile which Harry did not really like. But he was sure he would rather put up with this mysterious entity with his eerie smile and currently yet unknown family than having to see Vernon's flabby, contorted face twisted into a slightly crazed expression staring back at him.

A swarm of horrific images of experiences which he would much rather have totally forgotten filled his mind before he could block it. Each was like a reminder, taunting him, haunting him, of his past, refusing to let him out of its clutches.

_ARRRRG!_

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, and clenched his fists, trying in vain to clear his clouded mind. He was only broken out of his trance-like reverie when Mr. Greengrass began to speak again.

"We will travel by Apparation, the physical transfer of one's bodily atoms from one location to another instantaneously. That was how I arrived here in the first place. You just need to hold on tight to me", he continued.

Harry inched closer to the man, and tentatively grabbed one of his arms. He could soon feel Alpheus' grasp firmly closing over his palm. With another 'CRACK!', loud as a gunshot, Harry sensed his view swirling over, and instinctively closed his eyes.

Hardly a moment passed before he felt his felt touching solid ground again. Harry slowly opened his eyes, an awestruck gaze dawning on his face as he drank in the unique but grandiose surroundings.

They were now standing at one end of a long, extravagant, posh-looking hall. Its walls seemed to be made of some valuable sturdy, dark wood smoothed and varnished till it shined. Inset into the paneled wooden walls were strange-looking archaic symbols which constantly emitted a faint golden glow. The walls also housed a few fireplaces which looked strangely out of place in this classy setting. But its ceiling was the most captivating of all. It was colored a brilliant sky-blue, and covered with more of those strange symbols. The difference was, these symbols seem to shift and change its positions every minute or so.

"The symbols you see are ancient runes which code for the Ministry building's protective magical wards. To break them, even a skilled-wizard or ward-breaker has to be able to first identify every single one of these runes and their specific position in the series. As you can see, they change positions every minute, which is why even if the building's wards aren't as old as those casted upon some castles, they are still no doubt extremely effective", Alpheus explained, as though reading his mind.

"But you probably don't understand anyway. Worry not, as there is still plenty of chance to learn more about wards in future."

Standing in the middle of the hall was a large fountain of gleaming, golden figures. Harry could only identify two of them as humans. The rest looked like some unknown and weird creatures. Water spouted out from different positions in each of the statues, rising high into the air while magically twirling into intricate patterns and swirls, before falling back into the base with a loud splash.

He followed Mr. Greengrass to the end of the hall, where a large, spiked, golden gate stood. To the left of it was a security desk, which strangely was vacant.

Five minutes later saw Harry, after getting out of a large, grilled lift, on a long corridor lined with a few different doors and entrances on Level Five. There were also quite a number of windows set into the walls. The strange thing was, Harry knew they were underground yet there were warm rays of sunlight filtering through the panes. He dismissed it as magic though. Harry however, was most curious about one royal-style gold-plated door with silver ringers and labeled, "International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats", but was quickly led by Mr. Greengrass towards the end of the corridor and turned left into another hallway. This one had only one large glass door at the end. A newly-polished silver plaque read, "International Magical Office of Law". The doors, which seemed to have a mind of their own, swung open as the duo approached.

"A combination of Detection and Opening Spells", Alpheus explained to his young companion.

_And soon to be protégé, _he smirked mentally.

They entered a large room, beautifully furnished with potted plants and vast, expensive oil paintings. The flooring was carpeted, thick and rugged. Like the hallways, this room had always windows to allow the permeation of sunlight, though each was narrower, longer like French Windows. In the front, there was a long counter, behind which sat a few middle-aged women, most of whom had busy, stern expressions on their faces. A few archways to the sides of the place would lead to the various subdivisions of the Magical Law establishment. One of them looked at when the duo entered, staring at Alpheus for a moment before recognition dawned on her face.

"Mr. Greengrass! Pardon our poor service. What might be the purpose for your visit today?"

"I would like to see the best solicitor you can offer", he responded in a cool voice that left no room for negotiations.

Alpheus would much rather have preferred to use the family's own private line of solicitors. But a tricky matter such as gaining custody of a young wizard child who was totally unrelated to him, not to mention a symbiotic icon in the Wizarding world deigned him to come to the Ministry and ask for the services of a neutral party.

"Charles is free today, Mr. Greengrass. If you would please follow me", she answered, looking a bit flustered as she started to lead the way towards the archways to the right of the place.

Charles Revan sat calmly in his plush armchair, sweeping some strands of his long brown hair out of his face, and listening as Alpheus Greengrass explained his desire to gain custody of one Harry Potter, who looked particularly battered and scrawny than an eight-year old boy should. He knew the Greengrass family by reputation, wealthy and always looking down on Muggle-borns like himself. Though Charles was more than a bit reluctant to help the pureblood receive custody of a crucial person like Harry, business was business after all. Still, he already had his secretary, Marlene, to send a swift owl over to Albus Dumbledore, detailing the events that have transpired.

"You do not see the difficulty in achieving your wishes, Mr. Greengrass. Harry Potter has absolutely no relations to your line by blood, and has already been placed with guardians, whom may I say, are his actual, living relatives", he explained.

"And look where that has led him? Take a good look at Harry for yourself. This is the result of eight years with his relatives! What good has it done to the savior of our world? I simply fail to see how malnutrition, starvation, mental and physical abuse towards their charge would be the makings of an exemplary guardian", he hissed coldly.

"Do you mean to say that all these, injuries, have been inflicted onto him by his relatives?", asked Charles, whose face was turning pallid with shock.

"That is exactly what I mean. The Ministry, if they would like, can send over a Magical Law Enforcement squad to question them. In the event that I do not get custody of Harry, guess what I would do? I can already imagine the headline, "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore places Hero of the Magical world, Harry Potter, under abusive relatives". What an uproar that would cause. I don't think you, seeing as you have always worshipped the Muggle-loving fool, as well as the old coot himself, would like that, would you? I may also decide to bring charges upon the Magical Law Office for the gross negligence they showed in the being a part of this, _disaster_. Your department did, after all, hand Harry's custody over to Potter's relatives.", he continued on slowly, letting the threat sink in.

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Greengrass?", Charles, who had already been trying to suppress his anger towards the pureblood, said, now slowly rising and bristling with indignation.

"Think what you want to. I have no qualms about carrying out what I said. There is nothing that can stop me from gaining Harry's custody anyway. Our family is wealthy, way wealthier than _yours_, for that matter. We can provide him a caring and loving environment to grow up in, unlike his original guardians, who failed to do so. Besides, Harry has no objection in living with me. I don't see why the Ministry should not grant me his custody."

Before Charles could reply, there was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Revan, Headmaster Dumbledore is here to see you and Mr. Greengrass", came the voice of Marlene.

"Send him in, Marlene", he said, turning back to a now blazing Alpheus.

---

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he read the message delivered to him courtesy of Revan. Charles was one of his former students, and part of the few who had maintained good relations with him after leaving Hogwarts. The usually amicable man had always been dead set against the purebloods for their continued dominance in the Wizarding society and was never afraid to voice out his opinion. It was not a surprise for him when Charles became a solicitor for the Ministry; he was an eloquent debater. His former pupil has quickly risen through the ranks and was now one of the best in Magical Britain.

The message was worrying though. Dumbledore was relieved at first upon hearing Harry had been found, he had been anxious over Harry's well-being ever since old Mrs. Figg had informed him of the boy's disappearance. In fact, Albus was just about to pop over to Surrey to find out the cause for Harry's absence before he heard from Charles.

His relief was short-lived as he found out the Greengrass' intentions of adopting the child. He absolutely could not allow Alpheus Greengrass to get his way in this matter. The Greengrass line was reputed for two things- Their dueling ability and knowledge of the Dark Arts, even if they had never supported Voldemort. Albus knew that Alpheus would no doubt try to exploit the boy's fame and immense magical potential, try to train him, at the same time immersing him into the realm of forbidden magic to become a tool for the family. He could not sit back and let this unfold. Dumbledore knew just how corrupting the Dark Arts can be. Many wizards were tempted by the power it allured, but very few mastered it with their minds and bodies intact. Even an innocent and pure child could be completely twisted when steeped too far in Dark magic.

His usual twinkle in the eyes had dimmed; more frowns had appeared on his face, which was grim as Albus prepared to leave for the Ministry.

---

"Albus, it has been a long time. And I rue the state of our law department; it must be so challenging just to keep a client's confidentiality", growled Alpheus, his eyes gazing from Revan to the newly arrived but unwelcome visitor.

_I should have expected the man to pull something like this. Curse him for bringing in Dumbledore and complicating this whole matter!_

"Headmaster Dumbledore is here to act as my temporary consultant. I'm afraid that I do not really have the authority to decide on this matter. As you know, it is better to be safe than sorry", the solicitor replied, now smirking at the scowling man.

"Anyway, I digress. The Headmaster can be here if he wants to; he cannot do anything to stop me from gaining custody of Harry", Alpheus said, pointing at said boy, who was listening keenly into the conversation.

He observed as Dumbledore's eyes swept over the boy, eliciting a short gasp as he took in Harry's various wounds and bruises, along with his stick-thin frame.

"On what grounds should Harry's custody be granted to you, when he has already his relatives for guardians", Dumbledore finally spoke, his crystalline blue eyes boring into him.

"Why, on the grounds that his dear relatives not only underfed him, but also abused him. And that I am capable of giving him a comfortable, sheltered life, along with me being the first to find Harry and offer him a home, and if that is still not enough, Harry himself has agreed to live with our family as an adopted son", he drawled softly.

Dumbledore felt the perfect world he had created for the son of the two students he had most adored and cared for start to crumble. When James and Lily were murdered, he promised himself that he would guide and groom young Harry into a child they could be proud of. And he had failed so miserably. The boy was barely eight yet the amount of hurt and sorrow he could detect in Harry's eyes was something he hoped never to see again. Albus had wanted for Harry to live a life sheltered from the Wizarding world; a comfortable life away from fame for his scar and the potential dangers it might bring; a life in a home protected by ancient magic from remaining Death Eaters and a Dark Lord who would one day rise again.

He was totally oblivious to the dangers within the household. His care and concern for the young boy had blinded him to the knowledge that Lily's sister, along with her husband, despised Magic and everything to do with it. His naivety towards human kindness had led to him underestimating the extent of their reactions to being saddled with a child, a child born with Magic. He had utterly and completely failed Lily and James. The failure rang in his ears as he gripped the side of the table to steady himself.

"Harry… Is all t-this true?", he managed to croak out.

"Harry. Now standing before you is the man responsible for your plight; the man who left you with your abusive relatives. THE SAME MAN WHO DID NOTHING TO PREVENT THE ABUSE AND PROTECT YOU FROM THEM AS HE SHOULD HAVE!", he roared, eyes flashing at Dumbledore.

Albus flinched as he saw the degree of pain and hostility projected from Harry's eyes as he looked at him. He knew immediately from the first time he set his gaze on the perpetually haunted look on Harry's face that this was all true, but had wanted to seek confirmation. He also knew that he had probably lost the battle for Harry's custody. Hands gripping the table harder, he tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. Albus vaguely felt a hand planted on his shoulder to stabilize him.

Charles had never seen Dumbledore this upset before. He would never forget the disillusioned look on his former mentor's face, one filled with outmost regret. The lines and wrinkles on the man's face would more visible than ever now. Coupled with the near dead expression, Dumbledore seemed to have aged another fifty years.

Turning back to Harry, the wizened old man spoke, "Harry, I-I'm truly sorry for all that has happened, I-"

"Enough. Just stop it. I do not want to hear your apologies", the boy whispered, cutting off Dumbledore. "You have no right, no right at all…", trailing off as he was assaulted by another wave of memories.

"Why should custody of the boy be granted to you of all people, Alpheus? Why not others, like the Weasleys?", Revan pressed on.

"The Weasels? Are you kidding? Those bunch of Muggle lovers can barely afford to put a roof over their heads, and yet you want Harry to live with them? Unless you are deaf, I have already expressed that Harry is willing to come with me; willing being the word. Or do you not understand simple English at all?"

Dumbledore made one last effort to salvage the situation.

"You don't understand, Alpheus. Harry needs the protection that his relatives' home offers. It is protected by ancient blood magic invoked by his mother's sacrifice. You know as well as I that there are still former Death Eaters roaming around", he protested weakly.

Alpheus, who had been sitting down calmly, now rose, glaring at Dumbledore.

"Are you trying to insinuate that Greengrass Manor can be infiltrated or broken into by a few fugitives and what-not? This is an insult to our noble line", he said in a soft but chilly tone which hinted of suppressed rage.

"What else do you have to say, Dumbledore? If nothing, I expect Revan to complete the legal procedures soon. I will be taking Harry with me now, we have much to settle", he said, grasping the boy's hand.

"Come on, Harry. We will be leaving for the Manor."

Harry, who had not so much even looked back at the Headmaster, Disapparated with the man with a loud 'Pop!'.

"Isn't there anything we could do to deny Alpheus of the boy's custody, Headmaster?"

"I am afraid not, my boy. We can only hope for the best for young Harry", he said, sighing.

Albus shook his head as he thought of the mistake he had made, one which would invariably lead to another in future. He could not do anything as yet, but he would be damned if he let Harry be led towards the Dark. Dumbledore resolved to do what he could for the boy, especially when Harry came to Hogwarts, and hope for the best. He would not wish the same fate of Tom Riddle to befall upon Harry. But as said, there was nothing he could do for now and he had to accept that fact.

* * *

Please **Review**! Remember, the more you review, the more inspired I get. The more inspired I get, the more motivation I have to write. The more motivation I have to write, the faster the updates will be. In short, _more_ **reviews** _equals_ **faster ****updates** :) But really, I would like to know your opinions on this fic. Suggestions are also more than welcome.

This chapter is not Harry's POV as I feel the fight for his custody scene would be better when the focus is centered on the adults. The rest of the chapters would not be like this one. Next, please pardon my ignorance on law matters (particularly child custody), I simply did not study law, so please do not mind any discrepancies.

Dumbledore in this fic is a man who made a mistake out of his concern for Harry. He is no manipulative, evil bastard (that sounds more like Alpheus), because I simply do not see Dumbledore as it.

Next chapter will see Harry arriving at the manor and meeting the Greengrass family. I intend to have about 2 chapters on this and his life in the manor before jumping to his first year in Hogwarts. Typically, each year would be at most 6 chapters. I have seen too many authors who write AU fics when Harry starts Hogwarts, but give up after 2nd year due to the length of the fic (and it is only the second year). I do not intend to make this mistake. The last few years at Hogwarts will be longer though.

Once again, please REVIEW!

Lucullus


	4. Stranger In An Unholy Land

_The Rise & Fall of Harry Potter_

---

**Disclaimer**: The Harry Potter Universe and all of its characters solely belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing except for the plot and anything that you do not recognize. No profit is being made from writing this piece of fiction either.

**A/N**: Much thanks to all my reviewers. I really appreciate all your comments and suggestions. There is one thing I must clear up though. I am sort of planning to rewrite the entire series, except it won't be as long. I would probably not go into too much detail about Harry's school lessons (unless those I have already planned for to contribute to the plot), or him doing his everyday business like going to the lavatory. But, certain major events in the canon would remain, for example the face-off with Quirrel in First Year, and the Triwizard Tournament in the forth. There will, however, be different outcomes, so be warned. :P

To respond to anheru17's question, I admit I had planned for Harry to be in Slytherin. One of the main points being I plan to let him be close to Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, both of whom are Slytherins. But anheru17 brought up a good point, so if you readers really do not want him in the House of the serpents, I might change some plans.

Just to clear this up one more time, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis are in Harry's year. They took their OWLS the same year as he did.

I'm terribly sorry for the slow update. I had to prepare for my end of term examinations, which ended on Monday. I should be able to update faster now.

---

**Chapter 3: Stranger In An Unholy Land**

In the distant moors of Derbyshire, a loud 'Pop' signified the arrival of a duo- One was a small bespectacled boy whose frame did not do justice to his age, the other a tall respectable man. The boy otherwise known as Harry Potter, vanquisher of the great Lord Voldemort, gasped as he regained his bearings and took in his new location. Just three hours ago, he had been sitting by a vandalized wall in a dark back-alley in the middle of cosmopolitan London. Now, he was standing on top of a gentle rolling hill, lush greenery all around him, with a view of the surrounding landscape that stretched for as far as he could see in all directions.

"Greengrass Manor is not situated here, on top of a hill in the middle of wilderness for no reason", came Alpheus' voice in perfect recital mode, "The Manor was constructed in 1885, during the era of the Dark Lord Helderon, who lead a band of Mudbloods to try to overthrow pureblood dominance. We were one of the numerous pureblooded families targeted by Helderon's followers. The strategic location of the manor enabled us to spot attacks being organized and carried out for miles."

"But can't intruders just uh, Appyriate into the Manor?", the confused looking Harry asked.

"It's _Apparate_, and are you completely daft," the noble snapped at him, "What did I say about wards? No one, except those of our line, or those recognized as guests, can Apparate into Greengrass Manor and the half-mile radius of grounds surrounding it."

_He better not be a waste of my time. Goodness knows how much I despise people who can't seem to use their brains._

"Since you have not been keyed into the wards yet, this also means that we would have to trek half a mile to reach the grounds", he added, this time pointing at a low dark shape looming in the distance.

So they walked. Harry could tell that it was not an enjoyable experience for the man, seeing the look of disgust on his face as he stepped into a puddle.

He, on the other hand, wished the walk would stretch as long as possible. Harry simply could not fight back the nervousness that had been building up in him.

_Will they accept me? _This question kept popping up in his mind, try as he might to clear it.

Continued walking they did, and soon Greengrass Manor came into sight. It was designed Greek-style, built almost completely from expensive marble. Its front and sides were flanked by colonnades and pillars, adding to its mighty appearance.

"The Manor was redesigned by our late Father. He was interested in Greek architecture, and had the manor styled after the Temple of Hephaestus in Athens, which fitted his name, seeing as Father was named after the Greek god of fire and the forge. Greengrass Manor was built magically, and thus the building's interior is bigger than it looks", Mr. Greengrass explained.

Situated in front of the Manor was a large, expansive well-kept garden, reminiscent of those often found around French palaces. Harry could easily tell from Mr. Greengrass' attire that the family was well-off, but he never expected them to be this rich. The formal garden was like a bastion of prestige and wealth, with its carefully trimmed lawns and hedges cut to form complex patterns.

In the middle of it stood a fountain which shot water that twisted in the air to form an intricate 'G', before falling back into its base.

But the boy noticed an odd sight- four or five tall, grey stone pillars spread out proportionately so that they surrounded the Manor grounds. Normally, this shouldn't be anything strange, if not for the fact that there were a lot of strange figures and hieroglyphs carved onto the stone, each alternating between glowing blue, and green.

Alpheus saw what had captured his attention, smirked and answered his silent question, "Ah, I see you have noticed the spelled limestone pillars. Minerals and stones are very good absorbers of magic. These pillars enable us to cast more protective charms and, of course, wards, to cover the grounds. The runes you see on the pillars code for the tertiary wards that protect the Manor."

"This specific ward drains any intruder of their core magic, or as Muggles call it, life-force. Core magic is what keeps living things alive. Yes, even Muggles have a core of magic deep inside them, although unlike wizards or squibs, they do not have the slightest bit of magical reserves. Squibs have magical reserves that are too minute for them to utilize any abilities, though it does enable them to sense magic and other magical creatures. But I am straying off the topic. The ingenuity of this particular ward lies in that the victim would probably not notice its effects until he is too weak to escape. He usually ends up dead; a suitable punishment for someone daring enough to intrude Greengrass Manor. The victim's core magic is then used to empower the wards, increasing their efficiency. And this is merely one of our tertiary wards", he finished, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Come on now", Mr. Greengrass ordered, walking towards one of the pillars.

Harry hesitated for a while, but quickly followed, just in time to see Alpheus' left hand on the pillar, while he pointed his wand at the pillar and muttered incomprehensible words.

"Place your left hand on the pillar. It will recognize your magical signature, and key you in as a guest."

Harry did as told, though albeit cautiously. He could feel the near tangible power of the wards flowing into him, sensing every fiber of his being. It was as though the wards were scanning to see if he was a danger.

_Strange; it's as though the wards are some kind of magical creatures stalking me out._

Alpheus' blue eyes flashed as he remembered a warning that had always been instructed to all guests, "I would advise against having negative thoughts towards the family and the estate while you are still a guest. Wards are sentient, and they can sense if a guest plans to do harm to the family. When detected, the unfortunate guest will be, _dealt with _accordingly."

With a scowl at Harry's dawdling, he hurried, "We must hurry. There is still the Ties-of-Kin Ritual to be completed. After three hours, the wards will turn against any guests in the Manor. It is a safety precaution that has been implemented since the Manor was first constructed."

_The wards will what? What does he mean, turn against the guests?_

The next moments passed as a blur as Mr. Greengrass yanked him through the grounds, and into the manor, without letting him stop for rest, or for a look at his new habitations.

Harry only caught glimpses of the Manor's tastefully furnished interior- a large, formal hall lined with identical shining mirrors all around, a grand ballroom with its crystal chandeliers, and such a large number of rooms that more or less formed a maze which he thought he could get lost in.

He was then hurried up a winding spiral stairway into a large chamber. The chamber did not possess much furnishing, and had no windows to allow entry of sunlight, instead dimly lit by candles strategically placed to give it an ethereal, spiritual like atmosphere.

_What kind of ritual is to be performed? I don't like the feel of this._

Whatever fabric the candles were laid on had been colored blood-red, with the emitting glow of the flame projecting the same color throughout the room, adding to its unholy feel. At the front of the chamber, there was a gigantic tapestry showing every member of the Greengrass family, from the very first generation during the Roman times, to the Middle Ages, and on to now, where there are currently 65 living descendents, of which only about 13 were British, as far as Harry could tell.

At the very top of the family tree was a shield bearing what Harry thought had to be the family crest- A hand grasping a diamond encrusted, blood-stained sword pointing, reaching towards the stars, with twin identical snakes at its flanks, coiled up and prepared to strike.

Below the crest were words imprinted in a cursive script: _La Fin Justifie Les Moyens_

"That would be the Greengrass family motto. It means 'The ends justify the means'. Every single member of the family has lived by this motto. We did not achieve our current standing as one of the richest of the purebloods by a fluke. Hard work maybe a factor, but it is our scheming, our treachery, most importantly our cunningness that made us who we are today", explained the man, his eyes glowing with reverence as he stared at the tapestry.

Harry secretly agreed with the motto. The ends do justify the means. He thought that it does not matter how honorable one was, if he did not achieve success. Why else would the other Muggles not aid him when he was beaten and abused? He had always been exceptionally polite to them.

_Cut it out Harry! Stop- It does not pay to do good, it does not pay, it does not pay at all!_

"Are you alright?"

Harry slowly opened his eyes, nodding shakily.

"It is time we began the ritual. Every new addition to the family takes this ritual when he or she is capable of sound thought and speech. Spouses also take the same ritual when they marry into the family. It is quite simple, really. You make a slit on your thumb with this, and kneel over there. Follow my instructions next", he said, handing Harry a dagger with an elegantly carved hilt, and gesturing towards the padded mat in front of the tapestry.

He felt curious, but did as told. Harry kept silent even as he drew the cold blade of the dagger across his thumb, blood slowly dripping from the cut.

"You will be taking an oath to the family."

Drawing his wand, Alpheus pointed it in the direction of the boy's bleeding thumb.

"Do you swear your everlasting fealty to the noble line of Greengrass?"

_Huh?_

Harry looked to Alpheus for direction, who gave an imperceptible nod.

"Y-yes", he responded, though in a slight hesitant voice.

"_Agnosco"_, Alpheus muttered, while jabbing his wand in the direction of Harry's raised hand. The wand glowed red for a moment, before fading.

"Do you swear to do your outmost for the family be it in times of need or not?"

"Yes." Harry's voice was increased in strength.

_They are willing to take me in. I will of course do my part for the family._

Alpheus repeated the wand movement. "Do you swear to dedicate your life to helping the family scale to greater heights?"

"Yes."

"Do you swear never to turn on the family, or your life and magic would be forfeit?"

"Yes."

"Lastly, do you swear your outmost obedience to the family heads?"

"Yes."

"I, Alpheus Trajanus Greengrass, Head of the Main branch of House Greengrass, accept your vows, and hereby declare you a member of the line."

The family crest began to shimmer, as a new name was added to the tree: _Harry James Potter-Greengrass_.

"Arise, son of Greengrass", he completed, stretching out a hand to Harry.

---

Harry could not describe what he was feeling right now. It was like, _completion_ and belonging. It was after all, the very first time he was accepted into a family. While his true parents may have truly loved him, he had no memories of them, and they were dead; nothing could be done to change that fact. As for the Dursleys, Harry did not really want to even think of them.

He had been led to his new room by Mr. Greengrass, or should he now say, his father. His new room exceeded all expectations, literally.

_I won't lie. I was looking forward to, you know, grand, royal-like rooms that I had read about in Muggle fairytales. What can I say? It was what anyone else would have expected, considering the rest of the Manor looked like it had been cut out from a palace._

It was thus truly a shock when Alpheus had ushered him into a large but empty room, utterly devoid of any furnishings.

He looked at his father with a puzzled expression. Said man rolled his crystal-like blue eyes, brushing his black hair back in frustration.

"I should have remembered", he grumbled, "You being raised by Muggles."

"Look, whatever furnishings you desire, even how you want the room to be designed, simply concentrate hard and picture them in your mind. This room, like the rest, is charmed. The room will do the work from there. But bear in mind, the room's charms would only alter furnishings and design; nothing else."

"I will not disturb you for now, but come down to the Hall of Mirrors in four hours' time."

Alpheus turned to the signet ring worn on his index finger; all family members would have one crafted the moment they came of age. His was studded with a large emerald, and made of platinum, which signified his status in the family. Ordinary members wore silver rings. The designated heir, his son Julius, would receive one made of gold when he turned 18.

He lightly touched the emerald with his wand, watching it glow, before enunciating clearly, "As Head of the family, I request that all members from the Main branch of Greengrass Line be here at the ancestral estate by seven. Let this be noted", before exiting the room.

---

Four hours later saw Harry sitting in one of the high-backed plushy chairs in the Hall of Mirrors. In front of him was a long rectangular table, which Harry presumed doubled as a conference table as well as a dining one. The Hall was cavernous; Harry reckoned it could sit at least a hundred occupants. It was also aptly named, for almost every inch of the walls was paned with identical mirrors. It was a rather unnerving experience, seeing the numerous virtual images of him reflected on the walls.

Mr. Greengrass, no, Father, was standing in the middle of the Hall, awaiting the arrival of the other family members. Harry's ears were soon assaulted by a myriad of whip-like 'Cracks' and 'Pops' as they suddenly appeared the moment he thought of them.

Harry sighed. _Speak of an angel and hear the rustle of its wings. _He supposed he should try his best to give them a good impression, but if they really could not stand the sight of him, well, Harry could only do what he had done so far in his life- try his best to adapt.

But he could not help but feel disturbed as he noticed at least a dozen new faces staring at him with varying expressions, ranging from the curious, to the calculative, to the sneers, and unexpectedly, to the outright hostile.

One of them, a tall, beautiful lady stepped forwards to Mr. Greengrass, giving him a hug, while softly muttering, "You ought to have came with me and the children on the trip. Why the sudden recall, for that matter?"

She turned to stare at him for a moment, maintaining a neutral expression on her face, which probably looked the least unfriendly, and softened. Her pale blonde hair was flowed down to her waist like a curtain of silk, and she had sea-green eyes that seemed to sparkle. But Harry knew better than to trust her outright- despite her angelic, kindly looks, she had eyes that flashed with an innate cunning.

"It's great to see you again, Diana. So, how was Italy?"

Behind her were two kids, one was a boy of about eleven. With no great surprise, he was taller and of a greater build than Harry. He inherited what was probably his mother's blonde hair, which was suavely combed, and had his father's blue eyes, which were currently staring hard at Harry. The other was a younger girl, though still at least a year older than him. She, on the other hand, received her father's black hair, which went down to her shoulders, straight and luminous. The girl also possessed her mother's green eyes.

"What is that vagrant doing here?", a voice boomed.

It belonged to a well-built man who had the stature of a formal dueler. As with the man standing beside him, both had long black hair tied back and similar blue eyes. Their poise was also strikingly alike; both brothers were tense and had their backs arched a little, hands seemingly wandering near their robe pockets, as though preparing to draw their wands. The one who spoke was alternating between scowling at Harry and at Alpheus. Harry could not make out the faces of those standing further behind.

"Kindly tell us that we have been mistaken, and had not been recalled hundred of miles away just to see some skinny boy that you have taken in to satisfy your ever-changing desires. Is Diana here just not good enough, or do you really bat for the other team?", the other man now spoke, smirking at Alpheus.

Harry half-expected his adoptive father to blow his top, but the man simply smiled, drawling, "Nice to see Demetrius, that you have acquired a sense of humor in the few months that we had not met. Why, you were always the brooding one, moody enough to blacken a clear sky. But that is not the point. Take your seats, people, and I shall explain."

When everyone had been seated, Alpheus began to speak again. "The purpose of the today's meeting is to announce the newest addition to our family line", he said, while gesturing at Harry. There was an outburst of muttering at this news. An elderly man, with white hair and a neat gray beard, though coupled with the unmistakable aristocratic look, spoke up calmly, "Alpheus, the initiation of a new member into the family lines is a big matter. The decision should not have been hastily made. You ought to have discussed it with us before arriving at a conclusion."

"Hastily made, this decision is not. And in case you forget, Uncle Bacchus, I do have the authority to initiate him into the family without reference to the other members. Anyway, please meet Harry Potter."

The muttering had now increased in tenacity and volume. "What is Harry Potter doing here? Shouldn't he be with those Muggles he call his relatives? And why does he look so bruised, not to mention underfed?" The speaker was now Alpheus' wife, Diana, surveying Harry with an almost concerned expression.

"The boy had been abused by his relatives. To cut a long story short, I decided he would make a valuable addition to the Greengrass ranks, and wrested custody of him from Dumbledore and his cronies."

"Woe betide the state of House Greengrass. Now we are even serving as charity, taking in young orphan boys. What would be next, offering bread and cakes to poor Muggles?", sneered a brunette.

"There is no need to be snide, Lucille", as Alpheus began to show first signs of anger.

"I did not call this meeting to seek your opinion on this decision. The meeting is merely to inform you, of the outcome. Harry _will_ be my adoptive son", he growled, glaring at the others, "Personally, I have no wish to hear your incessant tittering."

"Have you yourself questioned the wisdom of fostering the boy? I fail to see how he could, as you said, be a valuable addition to the family. Perhaps you think having the Boy-Who-Lived as a Greengrass would provide the family with a good-luck charm or talisman?" The other woman, sitting beside Demetrius, shook her head of curly brown hair and leered at Harry. "I doubt it."

"I must say that Helen has a point. It will be years before the youngling would be able to contribute to this family. And we do not know for sure if he will actually be able to do so", agreed Bacchus.

"Oh, but I have plans for him already. Demetrius, would you kindly repeat the third oath of the Greengrass Code for everyone else?"

Harry watched, engaged, as the argument amongst the other members slowly grew. Father sure was having a hard time trying to defend him.

_But for reasons yet unknown, _his inner voice once again spoke up.

Demetrius glowered at his older brother, but grudgingly recited, "To dedicate your life to helping the family scale to greater heights."

"Scale to greater heights indeed. And have we done so? Our family has been stagnating down the years. Not in terms of wealth, but influence; Power!"

"If you still remember, without the last-ditch efforts of Father, we would have lost one of our three seats on the Wizengamot. Is that still not a sign of decline?"

"Nowadays, when a Black strolls into view, everyone immediately listens up; when the name, 'Malfoy', comes up, people fall over their knees to fawn on them. Even the Notts, Averys, Rosiers, Wilkes', Parkinsons and Lestranges gain more recognition than us. It is as though we Greengrass' have been forgotten; shelved and condemned to oblivion."

"On his deathbed, Father instructed me to regain the glory and enormous power we once held a hundred years ago at all costs. He reminded me of our motto, 'The ends justify the means'. I will not sit back and watch as our family name slowly fades into nothingness."

"However, I will not be so naïve to say that having the young Potter as a son of Greengrass would propel us back to fame and glory. But he will be useful nonetheless. You must admit that the Potter heir's fame overshadows even that of most of the pureblood families. In case you forgot, almost every single Wizarding newspaper worldwide had focused on the disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived for the past 3 days. Nobody then cared when the Malfoys acquired a new mansion in Wiltshire. Hell, most journalists even ignored Fudge's decision to cut back the ranks of the Aurors to scrounge for more information on the lad. Can you not say that our fame would be given a big boost?"

"I am certain that he would only be more useful to us as he grows up. As for power, if we cannot gain it by legal means, than we must certainly wrest it by force. Our late Father has many links in the Ministry, particularly the Department of Mysteries. The boy's magic is an anomaly- his magical potential is reasonable for a grown wizard, but far too large and concentrated for a child. Yes… Our Father has confided in me a lot about the boy. Our chance to power may have arrived, and I plan to make the most out of it."

Harry shook his head and sighed. He knew Father probably had not decided to take him in on the basis of goodwill. So he was trying to make use of him. But it was expected anyway. What made him bristle was the way Alpheus could talk outright about him, as though he, Harry was nonexistent at the meeting.

What made him angrier was how some of the other Greengrass' were looking down on him. They had sneered at him and seemingly dismissed him as useless on first sight.

_I would show them. One day, I would have them open their eyes to see what a mistake they had made by underestimating me._

"I have already everything planned out. You need not worry about that. My decision is final- Harry Potter will be my second son, and I will take him under my wing. He will be apprenticed to me, training and studying before he leaves for Hogwarts when he is eleven. Even after that, I will continue to groom him into one who would bring glory to the name of Greengrass. That is all you need to know."

Most of those present turned to Bacchus, who shook his head and said, "We cannot challenge his decision". The elderly man stared at Harry, and asked, "Has he gone through the ritual?"

"Obviously"

Alpheus finally turned to Harry for the first time since he started speaking. "Harry, I would like to meet my wife and your foster mother, Diana." She gave him a slight nod. "Your foster siblings, Julius and Elaine", pointing to the boy and girl he had noticed before. Both were speaking in hushed tones, and Harry did not have to be a genius to deduce who was the topic of their discussion.

"Next, this is my elder brother Sejanus and his wife, Lucille. They have two sons, Raymond and Tiberius, aged nine and ten respectively" Both husband and wife did not bother to hide their contempt, openly scowling at him.

"Over there is Demetrius, his wife Helen and their daughter Daphne. She is of the same age as you."

Their daughter had long dark-brown hair tied into a ponytail. Her blue eyes gazed at Harry, before giving him a tentative smile. Harry nodded in response. She could make a fine friend.

"Lastly, we have Uncle Bacchus, the sage of the family." Harry did not know if his last comment was meant to be sarcastic or not.

"If nobody has any questions, then this meeting is dismissed. Harry, I would like to follow me. We have much to clear up.

* * *

I must say, this chapter was hell to complete. I apologize if it was too boring (Personally, that's what I thought). The other chapters should be better.This chapter title was inspired byprobably the best 'Parallel-Universe' fic of similar name by serpant-sorcerer(Which was just updated recently!).

Greengrass Manor is merely the ancestral estate; the family owns other properties besides that.

Next two chapters will dwell on Harry's life in the Manor, including, of course, his training.

Any comments?; Any suggestions? **Please Review!**

Lastly, due to a point that a reader brought up, I thought it best to find out others' opinions on Harry's house placing. The original intended house was Slytherin, and would probably stay that way unless a lot of readers want it to change.

**Should Harry be placed in Slytherin? If not, which House should it be? (Reasons given would be encouraged)**

Next, I was reading some fics, and noticed many had a common flaw- Authors would write about Harry having an Animagus form simply for the sake of having one. I do not see how it helped him out in future, or why he achieved that particular form (most of the time it's a phoenix; I wonder why?). I had originally wanted to make Harry an Animagus, but now I question the decision.

**Should Harry be an Animagus? How would it help him?**

That's all for now, I guess. I will try my best to get the next chapter uploaded in a week's time.

Lucullus


	5. Knowledge Is Power

_The Rise & Fall of Harry Potter_

---

**Disclaimer**: The Harry Potter Universe and all of its characters solely belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing except for the plot and anything that you do not recognize. No profit is being made from writing this piece of fiction either.

**A/N**: Wow, thanks for all the reviews! I must say it spurred me to start writing straight away. This chapter, would hopefully, not seem too convoluted, as I will be trying to squeeze Harry's two years before Hogwarts into two chapters. There will be a greater use of flashbacks in this chapter.

There are two reviews that I simply must respond to. Firstly, Jarno, you said it was impossible for Harry to be tortured and not let his accidental magic flare up. Have you never thought that Harry **wanted** to avoid these outbursts of magic from occurring? Before he met Alpheus (in this fic anyway), Harry had never known what magic was. The previously random accidental magic outbursts was like to him, an oddity, an anomaly, something that defined him being a freak; and something that he was _punished greater_ for. Besides, in the third book, Harry blew up Marge because she was constantly insulting his parents after he knew the truth about them. By then, he had already known he was a wizard and knew what magic is etc. If you really cannot stomach this, then I can't help you.

Next, an anonymous reviewer under the alias '230192', posted this, which I now quote, "your storys rubbish and i nearly fell to sleep whilst reading it.you cant write and cant spell so stop wriiting excuses for storys u crap writer". Now I get why FFN was so anxious to improve their tools of which to remove random reviews. It's because of people like that guy. I admit that I am not a brilliant writer, and if I could write a chapter without making one or two spelling mistakes, coupled with the fact that I work without a beta, I would be Godlike. Besides, you never explained **why** I am, as you say, a 'crap writer', and if you think the fic is boring, than kindly leave. I did not notice much spelling mistakes either. (Any other reviewers noticed that I have made a lot of spelling mistakes?) For that matter, you are a bloody hypocrite- saying that I can't write or spell when your review is littered with spelling and grammatical mistakes. So, in the tradition of the Lord of the Rings, I'd say "_Begone, foul dwimmerlaik_". Now, please note, I do not have anything against anonymous reviewers, and my comments were wholly directed to the perpetrator. I hope no one else would take offence.

My apologies to whomever who had to put up with my rant- I was just letting off some steam. I guess I should paraphrase my previous comments on flames. All flames are accepted, but please at least give me reasons for it, with examples, if possible. This would be most helpful to me. If you are going to go, like, "You are the crappiest writer in the world and should be exiled to a planet as far away as Kashyyyk", then forget it, just leave. It would save both my time and yours.

**Nljfs**: I'm not allowed to post links here, but search for 'saerry' under the Authors category and you will be able to find her profile (Saerry Snape), eventually 'Not Myself'. Brace yourself for a long read though- it's a whopping 370,000 words, but very well worth the time.

I'm thinking I should compile a list of my favorite works anywhere from here at FFN to FictionAlley. Only problem would be that it would fill a lexicon.

The use of _italics_ can mean a person's thoughts, a flashback, a book excerpt or a spell. I hope it won't be too confusing.

---

**Chapter Four: Knowledge is Power**

Ten-year old Harry shook his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He sighed. He could barely pass the afternoons these days without taking a short nap. On his lap lay a great, thick tome, entitled, '_Dark Lords of the Past'_. Harry hated to sleep- not because he thought it was a waste of time, but due to how sleep always seemed to bring back the worst of his past in its most vivid form possible. It has been a long time since he had a good rest without seeing the devilish Dursleys, or memories of his horrible experience under them. A long time indeed…

His mind flashed back to the very first night he spent at the Manor. Father had told him all about his past- His parents, the Dark Lord Voldemort, the Order of the Phoenix. But even today it still did not really make sense to him. From what Father had informed him, Voldemort and his Death Eaters began a reign of terror lasting twenty years, and causing the deaths of nearly eight thousand wizards and witches in the process. What confused him was why the Dark Lord was so interested in his family? Voldemort had made a grand total of four attempts on the Potters' lives, the last of which all but succeeded, if not for the fact that he, Harry, had for reasons yet unknown, managed to deflect the Killing Curse onto the Dark Lord, causing his downfall.

Harry could not help but nurse a grudge against the Dark wizard. If anything, Voldemort was the cause for him growing up as an orphan, and spending eight years of hell on earth with the Dursleys. _The Dursleys._ Harry tried to calm himself down as he felt a deep, unexplained anger growing in him- anger and hatred so dark and strongly wrought that it threatened to tear his mind and very existence apart. He clenched his fists, and grabbed his throbbing head. This was not healthy- the last time this, this _mysterious outburst of anger_ occurred, he accidentally burned the armrest of the chair he was sitting on. Along with it usually came his mysterious _inner-voice_. Harry was not sure if someone had hexed him or he was already insane.

_Or are you not?_

Oh, there was the voice again. Harry wondered just to whom it belonged to. He swore he heard a mental snicker.

_Oh, this is laughable. Who am I? You might as well ask for your own identity. I am Harry Potter, just a different person than the one presented to the world. You and I are one. We differ only in the fact that you foolishly chose to retain your humanity and innocence, while I faced up to reality, I faced up to the challenge, and I changed for the better. Without me, you would have either been dead, or would have lost your mind. I protected you and made you who you are. But fret not, you will soon come to accept that fact; embrace your true self._

When he had questioned Father about this, the man simply told him that it was the demons of his past, beasts that had been formed mentally inside him to shelter his mind from insanity during times of abuse; sort of a mental release to prevent himself from going mad during that period. He was also told these experiences would probably only be gone if he managed to lay these demons to rest, something which he did not know how to do.

_Enough of these awful thoughts_

Harry stretched his aching muscles, they were aching everyday. At first, Harry never really understood why Father, no, in this case, he was Master, made him undergo what he called 'fitness training'. He rolled his eyes as he thought back.

"_I would like you, Harry, to be my new apprentice. It is the Greengrass tradition; each male would be apprenticed to an elder, until he is taught all the master knows. Apprenticeship usually starts when the boy reaches ten. But I will make an exception for you. This relationship traditionally occurs in pairs- a Master and an Apprentice, contrary to other similar apprenticeships, where a Master could have a large number of students._

"_I will cover the study of Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration and Charm, among other subjects. There will also be Defense practices, building up of your Duelling skills, and a few others, which will of course," here he looked over Harry's slight frame and smirked, "include fitness training."_

"_So, would you accept?"_

_Harry would have been a fool to decline. He had wanted to learn all he could about this fascinating subject since the very first time he experienced it. He agreed._

"_Good. You will address me as Master, during these, how do you say it, lessons."_

Harry would hardly call it, fitness training, more like torture. Surely, he thought, that anyone would consider making a child run, four to five miles a day torture. Or dumping a boy who had no prior experience in swimming into a deep lake, leaving him to fight or sink; or making him cover the 500-meter diameter of the lake twenty times daily. The worse, no doubt, was making him hang on a tree branch for up to three hours each day, while conjuring hot coals below, to make sure that Harry would not be tempted to let go, all the time having to endure Daphne's pulling of funny faces, trying to make him laugh and lose his grip.

Even till now, he still could not really get used to this 'training'. But admittedly, it had done wonders to his physical condition. He was still nowhere Julius' height, but at least, _at least _he was only, say, average for his age. Harry was also gradually catching up to him in terms of build, though that wasn't saying much. On the plus side, he could now look into a mirror, and not wish to bury himself six-feet under. Regarding the matter of physical appearance, Harry finally had his eyes corrected. Father nearly went mad after his glasses fell to the ground for the thirtieth time during a small simulated duel.

There were two things that came out of this. The unfortunate thing was no such Magical method of correcting one's eyesight- potions, spells or whatsoever, existed, as Father so nicely put it, "If magic could correct one's eyes, there wouldn't be any bespectacled wizard or witch around, you idiot". The good thing was Daphne's childhood friend, Tracey Davis, who was thankfully shorter than him, had sparkling violet eyes, and wore her blonde hair straight down instead of Daphne's preferred ponytail, introduced him to her father and narrated his problem. The stern-looking, but kindly wizard, though being a pureblood, did not discriminate against Mudbloods and introduced him to a good friend of his who brought him into the Muggle world (tolerant though Mr. Davis may be, it extended only to the field of associating with Muggle-borns, he would never deign to enter the Muggle world), into what they called an Optocin, Optikian, no, Optacian, whatever it is. The less he had to do with the Muggle world, the better. The eye-corrector had him undergo a method, LASEK, or was it LISIK, that involved, as far a he could tell, using a bright red beam to blast his eyes. Having to endure the burning pain was almost too much for him to handle, and Harry was half-tempted to draw his wand and give the fool a taste of his own medicine.

Though, he must say, it was really a testament to how much his life had improved. Three years ago, just three years ago, being on the receiving end of a punch or kick was nothing uncommon. And yet now, he was being as petulant as a toddler just because of a little pain in his eyes. Harry sighed. He was getting more and more spoilt as he grew accustomed to his privileged life under the Greengrass'.

Father received a pleasant shock the next day when he found him reading without glasses. When asked how he managed to achieve the impossible, Harry had chosen not to reveal anything, citing that it was a trade secret. Harry did not really appreciate his father skinning him alive upon finding out that he had approached _Muggles_ for help. Not that he was happy to seek out Muggles either. He could barely tolerate the sight of them, but as the power of the wand did not extend to covering the improvement of several natural ailments and disabilities, what choice had he?

Ah, yes… speaking of the wand. It was Harry's pride and joy. Holding it alone almost made him feel like a completely different person. Father, on the second day Harry had been in the Manor, brought him to visit Diagon Alley to get his wand. The only word to describe the place was… madness; though in a positive sense.

"_Mr. Greengrass, what a pleasant surprise. Twelve and a half inches, pine, with a dragon's heartstring as a core, I presume? Very nasty creature, the Ironbelly is, nearly seared off my beard," Harry shot a quizzical look at his father, "I trust your wand is working well for you, no?"_

_Father smiled, and replied, "Yes, of course, Mr. Ollivander, anything made by you is top quality. Harry here needs a wand."_

_The old man stared at him for a while before smiling. "Mr. Potter, I must say that I was not expecting you for another three years. It seems almost like yesterday when your parents came into here to purchase their wands. Your father, for one, could not keep his hands to himself, and left my store half in ruins! Good times, good times. And Lily was the most inquisitive girl that has graced this shop. The girl, bless her, kept asking questions about wand-crafting left and right." Ollivander stared off into space, quietly reminiscing, before looking back to him while stroking his soft-looking white beard._

"_I apologize for this lapse in concentration. Why don't you step over here and give this wand a go. Forgive an old man's lack of memory, but what would your wand hand be? Perhaps I should make it clearer. Which hand do you use for writing?", he asked genially._

_Harry had softly informed the wand-maker that he was left-handed, which elicited another hard stare._

"_The only left-handed wizard in the past century is the Dark Lord", Father had answered nonchalantly._

_This disturbed Harry greatly. It was strange, but he seemed to be growing more and more alike to Voldemort. Was he turning evil? He shuddered._

_Harry spent the next hour trying out wands of various lengths ranging from the very short six-inches to the near rod-like 17 and a half inches, different woods and cores, but with no success; there was either plainly no response whatsoever, or a strongly negative one, such as causing a strong gale to blow the other wand-boxes off their shelves. Father had impatiently stormed out of the shop under the pretext of having to relieve himself after a half hour had passed._

"_I wonder…"_

_Ollivander went back into his workroom and brought out a thin brown wand, grasping it reverently. "Try this- Holly, eleven inches with a phoenix tail feather core."_

_Harry picked it up, and gave the wand a little shake. It began to glow dimly at its end before fading. The wand was pretty much unresponsive, but a considerably bigger improvement than the rest._

"_Curious, very curious…"_

"_And what would be curious, Mr. Ollivander?" The wizened wand-crafter's off-the-world kind of speech was really confusing him._

"_The wand core seems to fit perfectly, but the holly is conflicting with your magic." Ollivander thought for a moment before replying, "Why don't you come into the workroom with me? We will see if we can't find you a more suitable material for your wand."_

_By then Father had reentered, and had followed him into the old wizard's workroom. The small, cramped place was more like a storeroom, with hundreds of boxes stacked high, and blocks of wood lying around._

"_Place your hand on each block of wood; try to mentally assimilate the wood into your very being. Imagine it being an integral part of your core. If it is compatible, you will feel a slight burn. The warmer it is, the more suitable it will be."_

_It was as though Harry was repeating the same process. He had went through pine, willow, teak, mahogany and countless other varieties, all of which remained as cold as a corpse. Finally he was down to two remaining ones. As he touched the first, a dark-colored specimen, he felt a slight sting, which slowly grew warmer._

"_Interesting, Yew, I did not expect you to be compatible with it."_

"_I think I would like to try the last one as well", Harry said, pointing to a remaining block of lightly-colored wood."_

_He picked it up, and nearly dropped it soon after due to the large burn it caused by his contact._

_Ollivander goggled at him, his mouth wide open._

"_Oak. I might have guessed."_

"_What's the big deal about oak?"_

_This time it was his father who had solemnly replied. "Oak is widely known as the Tree of Kings and Rulers. It is a great honor to be able to use such a wand. As the wand chooses the wizard, very few are found to be compatible with oak wands. Notable wizards who possessed oak wands include the Dark Lord Adlar Grindelward, who conquered a large part of Wizarding Europe during his reign, and the man who defeated him, Albus Dumbledore whom you have unfortunately met, among other great Dark and Light wizards."_

_Ollivander now picked up the speech. "The compatibility of a wizard with an oak wand is usually seen by some traditionalists as a sign of eventual greatness. A wizard in possession of such a wand has, throughout history, achieved incomparable feats or successes. I have no doubt that you would join their ranks. Plus the feather core, it comes from the same phoenix which supplied the core of the wand which caused your scar. You will do great things in future, Mr. Potter. Just like the owner of your wand's brother- horrific acts, but great nonetheless."_

"_Since you have been chosen, who am I to deny? I would help you craft the oak into a proper wand, and incorporate the phoenix core into it."_

_Harry had left the shop feeling unexplainably happy. He did not understand why the explanation from both Father and Ollie, as he would likened the man to, had made him so satisfied. A few hours later, he collected his precious twelve-inched wand from the shop, and clutched it the entire day like a baby would a toy._

He had wasted too much time reflecting. Better get some reading done.

_Knowledge is power…_

Harry turned to the last few pages where he had stopped before falling asleep, and began to read.

_Dark Lords of the Past (AD1850-1980)_

_Helderon (Reign: 1880-1891)_

_The Dark Lord Helderon (true name: Daniel Holdberg) was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had been a Hufflepuff student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before falling to the Dark side. The Muggle-born had allegedly held a grudge against pureblooded wizards throughout his life, and sought to improve the standing of Muggle-borns in society. He supposedly hit the last straw when the Ministry passed a decree stating that 'at least 85 Percent of the wizards constituting the Wizengamot must be purebloods'. His campaign lasted a total of eleven years, before he and his followers were caught in a Ministry-led ambush, and was killed fighting single-handedly against nearly fifty Aurors. Famous acts include the great pruning of the Travers, Mulciber and Parkinson families and the complete annihilation of the Bertrand and Crofter lines. Helderon's last words were rumored to be, "I am glad that I can face Death straight in the face and say 'I have tried my best'."_

_Memphistos (Reign: 1911-1913)_

_Little is known about Memphistos (true name unknown) except that he managed to conquer and hold the British, French and German Wizarding communities for two years before being defeated by a combined force of European Aurors from said communities, led by Bernard Schneider and Gaius Cornwall, who stormed his fortress in the Black Forest. Famous acts include the invention of the Memphistos' Bind and the Imperius Curse, and using it to take control the minds of Aurors to fight for him._

_Grindelwald (Reign: 1940-1944)_

_Lord Grindelwald (true name: Adlar Grindelwald), arguably one of the most famous Dark wizards to walk the earth, committed some of the vilest acts known to humanity, including the mass torture and extermination of more than ten thousand wizards, and successfully managing to stir the Muggle communities into a world war. Grindelwald had been seeking to create a just world for all wizards and magical creatures- Dark or Light. It was said that he had been thrown into prison for a couple of years for vocally voicing out his opinions. Whatever it may have been, Grindelwald had actually managed to raise an army of nearly a hundred thousand Dark wizards and creatures in a full-blown war against the Light. He was most famous for leading his army into what is considered the largest and bloodiest single Magical battle in history, the Battle of Hell's Gates, which involved approximately four hundred thousand wizards from six European countries. He was defeated at Hell's Gates by then up and rising British wizard Albus Dumbledore._

_Voldemort (Reign: 1961-1981)_

_Considered one of the most powerful Dark Lords of the century, almost nothing was uncovered about Lord Voldemort's past, though it was said that he attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at one point. Said to possess immense power unparalleled by anyone but Hogwarts Professor Albus Dumbledore, he was rumored to be disillusioned with the widespread tainting of Wizarding bloodlines by Muggle-borns in society, including the Ministry of Magic, which was then headed by Millicent Bagnold, a Muggle-born himself. Voldemort thus started a terrible rise to power, slaughtering thousands of innocent half-bloods and Muggle-borns and threw the British Ministry of Magic into massive disarray. Was famous for being defeated at the hand of a one-year old boy, Harry Potter, and his devising of steps to attain immortality, which led to rumors that he was still alive and would one day regain power. His most well-known saying was, "There is no good or evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it"._

"Interested about Dark Wizards, are we?"

Harry jumped up in shock; he was so engrossed in the tome that he did not notice Alpheus entering.

"Master," he admonished, "You ought to have knocked."

"But alas, the door was not shut. Pay attention to your surroundings. Have I never taught you that?"

"So, Harry," he gestured to the thick leather-bound book, "What are your thoughts about them?"

_Heroes… heroes who stood for their ideals and never gave up_, his inner voice fed.

"I-I, I can't believe I'm saying this, but a part of me feels as though they should be respected for daring to fight for their beliefs."

"Bravery, courageous- words which might be used by some to describe them, or merely fools who aspire for the impossible?" Alpheus had cut in sardonically.

"But on the other hand, the heinous acts they committed, the very evil they are tainted with, the amount of innocent blood they had spilt-" His diatribe was rudely interrupted by his father, who bent his knees to his level and looked him in the eyes.

"Tell me, Harry. What defines good and evil? They are merely perspectives of each opposing party. A murderer might think that the deaths of his victims were deserved and he was doing the world a favor getting rid of them. Who justifies what is good and what is evil? Is it the various governments of the world? And what gives them the right to do so? Is the sentencing of a prisoner to get his soul ripped out by a Dementor not evil in itself?"

Harry was still not really convinced. "But they deserved it, do they not? Their ideals may be noble, but steps they took to seek it are, are _not right_," he finished rather lamely, "History has proven this, along with how good always triumph over evil, time and again."

Alpheus pointed to the book that Harry had left lying on the coffee table. "History is," he took out his wand and set the valuable volume alight with a simple '_Incendio_', reducing it to nothing more than a pile of ashes, "but written by the victors."

"Think about it- What if Grindelwald had won at Hell's Gates? What if Dumbledore and the Light were crushed? What would the world be like now? Let me tell you- There would not be any unjustified laws and decrees oppressing the Dark creatures such as the vampires or werewolves. Practice of any type of magic, from Dark to Light might be commonplace. For all we know, the world could be a better place, and Grindelwald might be made out to be a hero in the books, with perhaps Dumbledore seen as a Dark Lord."

"And sometimes, we really do not have any options but do what is morally unethical in order to achieve a noble goal. Remember our motto, "The ends justify the means". Sometimes, we may be forced to kill, to plunder, all for the sake of creating a better world. Sometimes, sacrifices are necessary, to achieve 'the ends'. So bear in mind our motto, bear it in mind till the day you take your last breath, and even till then never forget it." Here he sighed, ruffling Harry's till-now messy jet black hair, "You have much to learn, my young apprentice."

_He's right, you know…_

"I understand, Master", he could only reply somberly.

"See that you do. I will meet you in the Practice Chamber in five minutes time", with that, he walked out of the room.

---

As Harry walked briskly along smooth marbled corridor, he could not help but notice a tiny fidget up ahead near the potted hydracinth. The plant's enormous size had cast a dark shade around the turn, but it was not enough.

_I think a lesson is needed…_

With a cruel grin on his face, and before his rationale could stop him, he stalked over and stomped down as hard as he could on what had to be the brat's outstretched thigh.

'Ow', Daphne gave a loud shriek as she jumped up in pain. The slim girl turned a chilling glare at him and she rubbed his bruised leg. Not that he was totally at fault; moments ago she had been sporting a mischievous look whilst attempting to trip him. When will she ever remember that his eyes were extra sensitive to motion? No matter how dark it was, he could always detect the slightest bit of movement.

"Spoilsport," she pouted, "Aren't you going to help me up?"

"I should think not. If I had not done what I did, I would be the one sprawling on the floor asking for help instead."

Daphne's only response was to flash him a sad look, her ice-blue eyes wide like that of a doe's, to which Harry could only sigh. He hated it when she had that puppy-dog expression on. He never could resist it.

He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet, watching as she carefully dusted her delicate blue robes.

"What a brute… I thought you were supposed to be the nice, gentlemanly boy that Uncle Alpheus had so often bragged about?"

Harry gave a small chuckle as she grumbled all the way to his practice area. In no time, she would be smiling like a Cheshire cat while chattering nonstop. Such was her bubbly, energetic personality, even if she appeared more than a little cold towards strangers.

But Harry was still extremely grateful for her willingness to befriend him right off the start from the first few days he arrived at the Manor. Then, he had been friendless and lonely, to top it off, he was also clearly unpopular among the rest of his newfound relations. Even till now, his foster siblings Elaine and Julius were not too taken with him, with jealousy as the primary reason, he suspected, as Father seemed to spend much of his time with him.

"Why, I have to update my dictionary soon," he drawled, "I do not recall seeing the word nice in there."

Though Harry had to admit that she had a point, such violence coming from his part was distasteful and should be curbed. It would not do for a member of a dignified pureblooded family to be stomping about, or so Father would definitely tell him if he had heard of this. Much as he hated it, he was also forced to undergo training on proper pureblood etiquette, lest he 'embarrassed the noble line' as Father had said. It took a lot of getting used to what Alpheus described as 'walking with pride and dignity' and perhaps, the hardest of all was 'eating with grace'. Reason so was because Harry had been forced to, since young, see food as a rarely obtained luxury, thus he tended to gobble every morsel of food up as fast as he could shove it into his mouth, much to the extreme displeasure of any other family members around, and which usually earned him a stern chiding.

"Harry," Daphne whined, pulling a long face, though Harry could spy her glossy pink lips curving upwards, "I've been meaning to ask you, when we will be going swimming again? It has been a long time since we have done so. Must I really hammer up a sign 'Jump in now' before you will agree?"

Harry could not help but smile at the thought, and closed his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. "I do go for a swim everyday, not that I enjoy it of course. Is it my fault that you never wake before noon?"

Daphne remained silent, but her hands wandered down his back until they reached a particular spot around his abdomen, which she started to tickle mercilessly, causing Harry to nearly collapse in fits of laughter.

Trying to neaten his untamable hair, he threatened, "Stop it! Stop it, I say, or it's down to wands".

She gave a flip of her brown hair, scowling at him. She knew she never would be able to beat him, judging how much he had learned under her uncle.

"Damn family traditions. Bloody sexist they are. Maybe Elaine and I should form a secret group to practice magic. I bet we would be able to kick you boys' asses."

Harry rolled his eyes, snorting derisively. "Whatever would Uncle Demetrius say, seeing how vulgar and unladylike you've been lately?"

"Besides, kick my ass? For one, Father will take away your wand if he sees you doing magic without permission from any of the adults. He was the one who removed the Ministry Monitoring Charms from it, you know? For another, the only way I could lose is if Julius backstabs me as well", he said with his fast becoming trademark smirk.

They soon came to a stop in front of a pair of gilded, heavyset doors, on which the family crest was engraved. The doors swung open easily as though possessing eyes and spotting them.

Harry never failed to be amazed at how spacious the large expanse known as the Practice Chamber were each time he entered. Today was no exception. He also did not understand why there was such a need to build a great wide training area as this. Harry was pretty certain that at least eighty wizards and witches could train comfortably in here with enough space left over for a podium. He could only surmise that the family simply had to find something to splurge on.

As he walked towards the middle of the chamber, the floor shimmered with each footstep as though it was a puddle of water. It was the effects of the Cushioning Charms placed on the marble flooring.

As the pair neared, Alpheus raised an eyebrow, before pointing at the exit. He had never once allowed Daphne to stay on to watch whenever they trained, with the only exception being Harry's 'physical fitness' lessons. Said girl never would leave without a fight- first there was always her venomous glare, followed which by a fierce scowl, if that failed too she would simply sulk or flash the vulnerable doe look, all of which always failed to unshaken her uncle, who simply stared back at her, his face set and hardened, eyes remaining cold and emotionless as per usual. She eventually stormed out of the chamber, though not without first giving Harry_ the_ look- which meant that she would probably vent her anger on him hours later.

"I figured we will be doing a little brushing up on your swordplay today", with that, Alpheus gestured to a large rack housing a variety of swords and sabers.

Swordplay is what pureblooded wizards would term fencing or sword-fighting as. This is due to the fencing being a termed coined by Muggles, while the latter sounded too crude. Contrary to popular belief, wizards were in fact the first to invent the use of swords. Funny as it may sound, swordplay was developed as a stress-relieving and less exhausting alternative to Magical duelling. It was meant as a hobby or pastime, which then evolved throughout the ages to become part of pureblood culture. Each and every single self-respecting pureblooded family had centuries of history in the art of swordplay, also having their own distinctive style. Every year, there were a few major swordplay competitions, in which usually thousands of wizards attended. Prizes were awarded not only to the winners, but also to those who possessed the smoothest and most graceful duelling style.

It was influence from the Wizarding society that the use of swords spread over to Muggles who, according to Alpheus, "Corrupted it, twisting it to their vile whims, the barbarians that they are", when they made swords out as weapons of war, sole purpose being bloodshed.

Swords had never been used in Wizarding society as a weapon for battles or fighting. It was considered uncultured, sort of a taboo among the purebloods. A sword was something to be respected- each family had their own basic general design on every blade from the scimitar to the katana. Thus, in a swordplay duel, it was a disgraceful act if a participant loses or drops his blade.

Both Harry and Alpheus picked out long-swords; Harry's had an emerald encrusted obsidian hilt with a heavy pommel, which he felt steadied his grip, and a long straight steel blade, its tip viciously sharpened, light shining and dispersing off it, causing it to give off a menacing gleam.

They both performed the necessary Blunting Jinxes on the blade to render them harmless- A competitor scored a win the moment he lays a touch on the opponent- regardless of whether it being on the limbs, neck or torso.

Harry eased himself into the customary defensive stance; he was still currently too weak to even think of starting on the offense, and tensed himself.

Naturally, it was the elder man who made the first move, the thin sword bearing down towards Harry in a swift diagonal slash, which Harry hastily chose to parry. It turned out to be a bad choice and ruined whatever little defensive advantage he might have had, as Alpheus' stroke was strong and hard-hitting, the blow causing Harry to strain to his max in order to block. This was soon followed up by a sideways slash from Alpheus to his mid-waist.

Harry tilted his sword downwards in a quick becoming futile attempt to ward off the attack. This did not prove to be much use, as Harry was already forced to mere deflection of every stroke, never able to put in any of his own.

Managing to avoid the deep stab by sidestepping to his left, Harry attempted to drive the heavy pommel of his into the side of his Master's ribs, only to be nearly stunned by a winding kick to his abdomen.

Recovering quickly and rolling into a defensive crouch, Harry blocked another stab, and tried to go for an upward swipe. Alpheus brought his sword downwards forcefully, countering the blow, before twisting it under his apprentice's weapon, nearly making Harry drop his blade. In that momentary loss of concentration, Harry only narrowly avoided another stab by leaping backwards before trying to steady himself again.

Their swords flashed like liquid light, with Alpheus' smooth and fluid attacks contrasting against Harry's tense, hurried defending.

Minutes passed, and Harry was soon becoming overwhelmed by the heavy, relentless slashes and occasional stabs by his Master. In a desperate attempt to turn the tides of the duel, he decided to try to capitulate on his youth and greater mobility, rolling to the left to avoid the elder's vertical slash, then swift as a sparrow leaping forward, attempting to thrust the sword tip at the Alpheus' chest.

He had sorely underestimated the man's reactions, as he seemed to have anticipated something like this occurring, sending his blade up in a skyward swipe, relying on Harry's momentum to nearly topple him. The next thing Harry knew, he was close to falling backwards while feeling the length of the cool blade on his neck.

"Your swordplay needs a lot of work Harry; A lot indeed."

"Maybe it's just because you are too good, Master", Harry sulked.

His tutor fingered the blade delicately, while chuckling at him. "Perhaps so, but even then your reactions is pathetic. What did I ever tell you about learning to anticipate your opponent's moves? We will try again."

And so they did. There wasn't that much improvement, unless you consider Harry being able to hold his own for eight minutes instead of seven a great leap.

After ninety minutes of practice, in which Harry had found himself on the floor a grand total of eighteen times, they finally prepared to stop. Harry never thought that he would have loved the sight of Alpheus sheathing his sword more than today.

"Master, I've always wondered, why are swords never used in a Magical battle," he questioned, "I would think that swords enables one to attack and put an enemy down much faster. Besides, won't the use of swords offer an attacker greater mobility?"

That was something Harry had always wanted to know. The use of swords in battles seemed to make perfect sense to him.

Alpheus pondered his choices. _No. It will be better to teach him a lesson._

"You want to know why wands will always be superior to swords; Fine. Raise your weapon and prepare to attack or defend."

Harry did as told, tightly gripping the shiny hilt with both hands, preparing to first avoid any incoming spells, then leaping to the offense. What Alpheus did was totally unexpected.

"_Conlusor_"

The older man had pulled out his wand, twirling it in a spiral, before jabbing it upwards.

Harry, who had been poised to duck an incoming jet or flash of light, watched entranced as the wand-tip seemed to glow brightly, with the intensity of a sun, before expanding outwards rapidly in the same second, looking like an enormous ripple of silver light rushing to flood the entire chamber. Accompanying it was a tremendous 'Bang' sound, similar to that of a gunshot.

He could only gaze in awe and wonder, before his world had gone completely black…

He felt the world coming into focus after what seemed like an eternity. In the two years he had been under the tutelage of Alpheus, his master had never taught him a spell of this power. He felt drawn, drawn to its immense effects like ants to honey…

"Master, what in Slytherin's name was that?", he asked, eyes bulging frantically.

Mr. Greengrass smiled to himself; the boy had cultivated a strange passion for spells of any significant power. He reminisced how Harry had scoured all the basic Magical texts feverishly for any spells which could bring harm, or incapacitate an opponent.

"It is a stronger variant of the Stunning Spell you have been taught. I did not think that you would be able to master it- The wand movement and incantation involved may be simple, but the spell needs a good bit of power behind it. The spell incapacitates anybody unshielded in a strong radius. The more magically adapt the wizard, the larger the radius. Ordinary Shield Charms would not be able to negate the spell either."

"Now do you understand why a wand can always brush aside a sword?"

But Harry's focus had already been lost, enraptured as he was by the new spell.

"Can I try it?"

Alpheus had of course consented. He knew that Harry would be able to perform the spell, but perhaps with a little help from him.

He watched as the boy started waving his wand in the correct pattern, his eyes lit with a glow, as he futilely attempted to cast the spell. He could practically sense the growing frustration in Harry, as try after try failed. He watched on… emotionlessly as the boy gave another shot, his hands clutching the wand in obvious concentration, but alas, only managing to produce a flickering silver glow.

"Think about the Dursleys; how you had been treated, how you had been beaten. Think about how you had been forced to go for days without food. Imagine the feel of the whip on your body, imagine how your skin cracks open and bleed. Remember how they jeer at you as you writhe on the floor in pain. Imagine how much pain they had caused you… Picture in your mind how badly you want to capture them, how you want to kill them, how you want to tear them apart with your very hands. Crush them all…"

He watched on in ecstasy as they boy screwed his eyes, shaking, clenching his fists. Spells were usually magnified by emotions, be it happiness, rage, hatred, sadness, or love. Harry by rights would not be powerful enough to cast the spell yet, but as he said, with a little help… Anyway, he knew what these spasms of rage would do to the boy. Harry was already suffering the mental aftermath of hi past experiences, perhaps helping feed his demon within could bend his mind, turn him into the perfect puppet; a vicious puppet indeed…

He watched as Harry, with blazing eyes and a glazed look on his face, raised his wand and prepared to cast.

Harry's mind was filled with an avalanche of images, none of them positive. Alpheus' voice seemed to echo in his head. He remembered the starvation, the punishments, the sneers and jeers, his enslavement in Number Four.

_Kill them… Rip them apart… Crush them… Kill! Kill!_

"_CONLUSOR!_", he bellowed.

Alpheus had expected this outcome. Quick as a flash, his wand was up, waved in a complicated series of movements. A large round golden colored shield materialized in front of him, conjured from thin air, engraved with a coiled python, light gleaming off its thick surface.

The silver flash splashed upon the shield harmlessly, leaving behind no visible damage.

Alpheus turned to Harry, now shaking his head, as though trying to clear his mind. He walked over to his adopted son and apprentice, face molded into an expression of remorse and sadness.

"Harry, I'm really sorry," rubbing the boy's back in a seemingly fatherly gesture, "I do hope you know this is for your own good. Learn forth the spells, and eventually put your demons to rest. You will then find a peace of mind. After all, what happened is already in the past. We should learn to make the best out of these experiences" he soothed the boy, hugging him gently.

On his face was a wicked smile.

_I think he is ready. Perhaps he can be introduced sooner; he should be able to handle it, perhaps…

* * *

_

My longest chapter yet! Subtracting the various rants, I would say this is around 7000 words. If you enjoyed this chapter, **review**! If you do not really enjoy it, or could find fault with it, also **review** and ell me what is wrong. I always love constructive criticism.

Regarding the way the votes are going, Harry seems on his way to the House of the Serpents. But he won't be going to Hogwarts for at least one chapter, so if you think he should not be in Slytherin, it is still not too late to express your opinions.

As for Animagus form, I am still undecided, but one thing is for sure, I will write one if I manage to think of a plot line to tie in his form.

Next chapter, we will see more of interaction between Harry and the Greengrass'. I promise a magical duel too. We will also get to see his familiar. (It won't be any sort of fantastic creature, not to worry. I should think it is pretty unique.)

I hope no one takes offence for my inclusion of swords. I know I have fallen into the Sea of Cliché, but not to worry. To all magic-purists, fret not, spell duels will still and forever comprise the main part of the story's battles. I do have a reason for the inclusion of swordplay- It will serve a purpose when Harry begins his rise to power. I will not tell now, but if someone manages to guess what purpose the sword will play, I will reveal the answer. :D

Once again, please **review**!

Lucullus


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